Swordplay
by Unresolved Emotions
Summary: "The expectations, the adaptations, and the passions of the dance; these were her life. This was her ecstasy." Drabble.


I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or its characters.

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**Swordplay**

Her father had always told her that you could see a man's true colors through their sword. How right he was.

At first, it had been a test to evaluate Eragon's ability as well as his character. But Arya could never have anticipated how their duels would captivate her beyond reason and logic. Their combat styles were polar opposites; hers being fluid and thoughtful, his spontaneous and passionate. There should never have been a chemistry between them. Like attracted like, right?

Arya was evasive. She was content to dance around Eragon's blade, striking when the opportunity presented itself and then retreating to the shadows. Eragon was direct, always assailing her head-on. His blows were swift and powerful, weaving a web of steel around her, drawing her in. Arya was never able to entirely disengage herself from his relentless assault.

The first attack was always the most important. It dictated the ebb and flow of the fight and each person always had a preference regarding their initial move. Arya generally taunted Eragon, provoking him to begin the sparring match. Sometimes it was a subtle expression, other times it was an obvious message. If he attacked first, she reasoned, then it would be easy to manipulate his movements. Eragon never failed to respond to her taunts, always initiating the duel. He was too forthcoming at times, leaving himself open to disastrous counter-attacks and rebuttals.

The conservation of energy was of utmost importance to Arya. The less she moved, the less energy wasted. In accordance with this, her attacks were always of pinpoint accuracy. She attacked only when there was an opening and never employed unnecessary power. Each strike was a controlled thrust of perfect balance, revealing no weakness in her form. Eragon was wildly effective, his unpredictable variance of strength and direction keeping her off-balance. When Arya expected that he would swing at a certain angle, Eragon would utterly surprise her by striking a spot that she presumed was well-guarded.

Knowing her opponent was a key advantage in battle. If Eragon's thoughts could be read, and his patterns discerned, then Arya could easily anticipate his every move. Her strategy was to dissect Eragon's style, using the information to control the battle. But Eragon was an instinctual fighter, tending to rely on his gut rather than his head. He would chain a series of slashes together, immersing himself into the very essence of the duel. Arya's analytical observations should have easily trounced Eragon, but cold calculations could not account for all the possibilities.

Though Arya knew everything about Eragon's swordplay—from the way his sword dipped whenever he feinted to the way his pupils contracted whenever he charged—he knew her just as well. Adapting to Eragon's ever-shifting weaknesses was the only way to maintain the status quo. Sometimes Arya would leap at him first, hoping to catch Eragon off-balance. But he would come right back by predicting her techniques and then using a precisely timed block to repel her.

There were times when Arya thought she understood Eragon's strategy and planned accordingly. However, he would use her observations against her, shattering what perceptions she previously held. Such shock often left her disoriented in the midst of battle, a glaring vulnerability that Eragon seized without mercy. But Arya was also able to startle Eragon with her own alterations, allowing her to weave between his defenses and strike at his heart. This constant give and take was refreshing, reminding her that she could never sit on her laurels while dealing with Eragon.

It was a dynamic sparring routine they had. The constant adaptations changed them, for better or for worse, neither could say. They had both disproven earlier assumptions made through surveillance and rebuilt them to new criteria, only to demolish them yet again. As there was less and less to learn about one another, being caught off-guard had become an increasingly rare occurrence.

Arya should never have become so engrossed by their duels, for their approaches clashed immeasurably. However, they had become an integral part of her life and ceasing them now would mean losing a part of herself in the process. The expectations, the adaptations, and the passions of the dance; these were her life.

This was her ecstasy.

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Author's Note:

This long extended-metaphor couldn't fit into a normal one-shot, but I thought it worked well as a drabble piece. I've never written a drabble fiction before and I don't read them very often either, so this is pretty new for me.

One thing I haven't been able to gauge is how obvious or subtle readers like metaphors and such to be in fanfiction. I haven't written anything else with such a central metaphor before, so it was never a very important issue for me. But leave me a message or something if you think that they should be more, less or equal in obviousness than what was written here.

As a side-note, the phrase "like attracts like" is a science term describing how similar molecules are more likely to bond. I could not completely disregard my inner science nerd in fanfiction.

As always, please read and review :).


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